Time Out of Mind (Suncoast Society #43)(82)

Following his failure with Doyle, it was events like this that provided the only light in his life lately.

Doyle had taken a huge risk to be with him, and he understood why Doyle left. To Doyle, it had been the ultimate violation of his trust, especially after everything he’d done, risked, and given up to be with Mevi in the first place.

And trying to shift blame onto Doyle, when Mevi should have gone straight back to their room to begin with, was just wrong. He was at fault here, not Doyle. Even Bonnie admitted she’d pushed the narrative the way she’d wanted it to go and that yeah, Doyle probably did assume they’d slept together based on her words.

The limo slowed as they approached the gate. They would be escorted around the back of the building to enter through a service corridor so as not to be a distraction too early. The publicity team and their core roadies and techs had already set up for them earlier that day and performed a sound check. By the time they were in position inside, they’d be ready to go on.

Bonnie pried the set list out of Mevi’s hand and shook it at him. “We’re good. This is good. This is great, and you’re great. Stop stressing. These are fun, remember?”

Before they left the limo, Bonnie reached her hands out to Mevi and Troy, who were closest. All of them joined hands as Bonnie spoke, their usual mantra.

“Fun, friends, and family. Let’s have a good time and put on a good show. Smiles, boys. Smiles. We’re lucky to be alive.”





Doyle stayed out of the way, finding a secluded section of quiet corridor wall to hold up while Tilly disappeared to the bathroom and he held her glass for her. When she returned, she hooked an arm through his to make their way through the crowd and to the ballroom.

“Those are like the tiniest freaking bathrooms ever. I’d hope your apartment’s bigger than that. I guess they have a modern bathroom that’s handicapped accessible for the kids on the other side. But that’s barely two phone booths sharing a spittoon in there. Don’t know what the men’s is like.”

“Yeah, I overestimated. It was tight. But I’ve been in worse. So who is the entertainment tonight?”

“Some band. Apparently well-known over here.”

They found their table, and their name cards. The card at the empty seat next to his, on his left, only had “2” printed on it. The table was also close to the front, just feet from the stage. Seating over a dozen people each, there were several kids and their parents at their table, as well as people Doyle assumed were big-time donors, from the way they were dressed.

He felt decidedly underdressed next to many of them, despite the parents and kids being dressed about how he was.

Tilly leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “We’re giving the kids a studio tour next week. I mean, a group from the charity. Thirty kids, some of their most critical who are still able to travel safely.” She looked sad. “Makeup and hair, screen tests with Nick, the whole thing. They’ll all get headshots and videos they can take home.”

He smiled as he watched her watching some of the kids. “You’re a good woman, Mistress Cardinal.”

“Shh.” She shot him a frown. “Do not say that here.”

“It’s the truth. You do that without the actual title.”

“I mean people will think I’m a softie. I’m not.”

“Yes you are, you big marshmallow.”

“That’s a rotten thing to say. I thought we were friends.” But she smiled.

An older woman walked up to a microphone that’d been set up at the front of the low platform where the band’s instruments had been arranged. Due to where he and Tilly were seated at the round table, they had to turn their chairs sideways or crane their necks. He didn’t miss how Tilly scooted close behind him, one arm hooked around his left, tightly, as she rested her chin on his left shoulder.

“You all right?” he asked.

“A little chilly.”

“Want me to get your coat from—”

“Shh!”

The woman smiled as the room’s overhead lights dimmed and lights focused on the stage area highlighted it and her.

“Thank you all for coming tonight. This is one of our largest annual fundraisers, and we’re so pleased that one of our regulars volunteered to be the entertainment for tonight…”

She launched into a discussion about the charity and their work and the kids they helped. Doyle reached for his water glass with his right arm, since Tilly felt like a ton of dead weight hanging from his left.

As he sipped, the woman finished her spiel. “And so, it is with great pleasure that I present…Portnoy’s Oyster!”

Fortunately, the explosion of applause and cheers in the room covered the sound of him choking and Tilly whacking him several times between the shoulder blades.





They were being held in a small anteroom right off the stage area, a closed door separating them from the main ballroom. When the cue was given for them to emerge, Mevi led the way, his concert smile pasted firmly in place and waving as he walked.

Then Bonnie plowed into him when he stopped, his gaze locked on a very shocked-looking Doyle.

“What—oh!” Bonnie grabbed his arm and pulled him across the stage while Mevi struggled to focus and not burst into tears.

“Places!” she hissed at him as she walked over to the keyboard stand and took her place, tucking her IEMs into place.